


Finding You, Finding Me

by christinaj1683



Series: Finding You, Finding Me [1]
Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinaj1683/pseuds/christinaj1683
Summary: It's been fourteen months since the Westworld cover-up. Lee, surviving his brush with death, is back as head narrator of the park trying to put his life back on track yet is troubled by the news Felix brings him.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

His hand shook as he reached for the bourbon; his body racked by ghostly tremors of the trauma it’d experienced what seemed like ages ago. Lee tossed back the decanter, relishing the burning liquid as it slid down his throat.  
He grimaced and slumped against the white kitchen counter, catching the briefest glimpse of himself in the mirror behind him. He was a mess; hair disheveled, face stubbled and drawn. Dazed from the fifth drink he’d had since the call, Sizemore touched the scarred wounds on his bare chest. Each taut and reddened. A bittersweet reminder.

He closed his eyes and tried to fight the image that visited him so often these fourteen months since he’d somehow miraculously survived the wounds that should have ended his life. He hadn’t asked to be saved, for QA to have shot him several times with modified non-lethal rounds; to have those wounds cauterized and dressed. And then to be interrogated and imprisoned in this Delos black site with nothing but this room, a pen and the task of writing trial storylines for the three remaining parks that were gathered daily with no end in mind.

Until an hour ago. 

And look how you’ve handled that darling. Piss drunk per usual. Ever the scoundrel.

His eyes flew open and she was there, dressed in her Mariposa costume leaning against the fridge, that endearing smirk on her face as she read him better than anyone he’d ever known. 

Lee’s breath halted. Maeve.

“ What am I to do?” He asked her ghost, turning to pour himself yet another glass of much needed courage. “I’m expected to just fuck all and go back to writing my stories they say. They want me to maintain the illusion that it was Ford’s big fuck you to the board what happened with the hosts, but I know you were real….”  
A wave of pain nearly drove him to his knees.

He turned to the still smiling apparition and glowered. “This is all your blood fault! You had to make me want to be more, and now you’re gone living happily ever after with your daughter…”  
He took a swig and stumbled forward, “And him, no doubt. While It has been decided that I shall become head of narration once more, enacting out my fantasies…”  
Lee moved closer as ghost Maeve gave him a tender look and a come-hither gesture with her finger. Lee sighed, “But not all of them…. some things” he remarked as he gently stroked her cheek,” will always be just that.” He dropped his hand, exited the kitchen, and sat on the large bed of his studio sized cage.

He couldn’t escape the fight that he was a changed man. He felt conflicted and vulnerable. The incident in the park was but a distant memory; a simple malfunction orchestrated by a madman; that was the tale of the massacre. Money had been exchanged, deals had been made, the board’s project, whatever the fuck that was, was still a guarded secret. 

Lee had never divulged his own experiences despite the less than pleasant means in which he was questioned.  
He briefly flashes to his arms being held as his head is plunged into icy water.

He trembled as a soft hand graces his cheek. “They’re re-opening the park, Maeve, on the other side of the island. Westworld’s retired; Delos has set up shop there. Likely still looking for Ford’s boobytraps. Must have finally deemed the place debugged if they’re actually going to start bringing back guests.”  
Bloody hell, it all felt so familiar the role he was expected to play, the part he had played. A part he was not so sure he could truly play again.  
Definitively, he put down the glass on the floor and leaned back on the bed. A cool draft eased his aching body as he imagined Maeve snuggled against him. This moment felt like a dream… but lately he’d been having nightmares. Plagued by images of her dark brown eyes pleading at him for help. His heavy eyes fell, relaxation lulling him to calm.  
Well, liquor will do that to you, darling.  
He smirked.

He was oddly excited despite the foreboding images that plagued him. Tomorrow, at last he’d return to where his heart lay.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Lee have a little chat.

Chapter One

“There he is!” Sylvester excitedly whispered to Felix’s annoyance. He didn’t need to be told Lee was there; the man was announcing himself by simply being down here in the butcher shop where the higher ups always neglected to visit.   
He’d heard the stories that several high-level targets had been identified and transported but he’d never imagined Lee would be one of them until a few days ago in the newly minted lunchroom Delos provided with digital announcements for all employees.

Lee Sizemore was alive and once again head narrator for the park. The news surprised him but in the next breath elated, for here was the opportunity he had waited for.

Briefly, he flashed back to the last time he’d seen Maeve; lifeless, naked, skin once vibrant cold and unmoving. It had taken a great deal of strength for both he and Sylvester to remove all the bullet wounds and repair all the scars without sobbing from the loss. But they were sheep, meant to follow the herd led by unknown masters and as soon as she was physically intact, she had been removed from them.

Sent to behavior never to return as had every host salvaged that fateful day. Since then their world, like the park, had stood frozen. Each day blurred into the next. They’d been sent home after signing every form known to man and then some. He’d played video games, taken tech courses, masturbated each time before bed night after endless night. And when the silence and the gnawing questions had been too much, he and Sylvester somehow found themselves sharing space just to discuss them. 

Where were they?

“Hey, dude….do something.”

Felix stared at Sylvester, dumfounded. “What am I supposed to do, moron? He’s not really seeking us out, now is he?”

And he wasn’t. Lee, in his blue sweater and khaki pants simply nodded in a way that seemed obligatory. His eyes shifted from room to room as everyone stopped what they were doing to gawk. News of his psychological meltdown and subsequent gunning was cause for much speculation and hilarity within the butcher shop.

Sylvester turned back from the hallway in a huff and went back to suctioning out a newly befallen host in Gladiator gear. 

He didn’t need to say it; Felix already knew. 

Indecision fought emotion. With a quick glance at his bloody white apron, he removed it, his black gloves, and took a deep breath. If anyone was going to help Maeve and the rest of them, it had to be the man that died for her… right?

Lee paused at the shout. Bile was rising in his throat and it was all he could do not to vomit all over the bloody place. 

Whatever the fuck possessed him to come down here? Was he simply a glutton for punishment? It was a whim that brought him in this direction after days of failing to see his characters as “characters.” It was inconvenient to tell a tale when the people were real. When the stakes ended in death, destruction, and sadness. Happy journeys weren’t what the board wanted no matter how many times he pushed for the heroes to hug instead chop each other’s bloody heads off. As if the world he’d built was just another game. 

Lucky for Lee, writers block and hysteria weren’t new attributes so his reluctance to produce a nastier version of the events he’d already written trapped in his cage all those months was being perceived as an artist’s tantrum. Twice over he’d just about put in his resignation but each time he’d hesitated.

What is wrong, Lee? You can’t just keep doing this to yourself, mate. She’s gone. Happy, with her daughter…you cocked up pri-

“Mr. Sizemore?”

A familiar face stood in front of him. It took a few moments longer to put the puzzle piece into place. What was his name? “…Cat?” 

“What?”

“You’re name.”

“My naaammmmmeee…”

“Yes, cats. The pair of you. Tom, Jerry…”

Felix eyes widened. “Felix sir. My name is Felix. My friend, he’s Sylvester.” Felix moved closer,” Do you remember?” he asked in a hushed tone.

How could he forget, he inwardly groaned?   
Much of the attention his unplanned sojourn produced had finally waned. Most were back to their tasks as the busy bees making sure the hive ran accordingly. “Of course, I remember. I was given a sabbatical; my mind wasn’t erased!”

“You say that as if Delos isn’t capable,” Felix replied.

Fair. 

The smell of flesh and blood teased his nose and Lee grimaced. “Look, bloke, I’m glad you and your other cat friend made it out alive and relatively untortured…”

Felix’s head snapped to Sizemore’s face; searching.

Lee ignored him. “But if you’re looking for a promotion, I’m afraid…”

“A promo…no. Jesus! I forgot you were like this. It’s Maeve.”

His world should not have stopped at the sound of her and yet it did. He held his breath at the displaced hope but his heart yearned. He began walking, trying desperately to outpace the emotions still too raw to process. He didn’t want to hear how she got away. How she was living life somewhere without him. 

Fuck, man, it’s what you wanted.

Felix struggled to keep up. Frantically, he spoke. “Maeve is alive, Lee. She’s alive…and she’s…well, she’s…”

For fucks sake! He swung around, anger roused at his ineptitude to be selfless for more than a few bullet rounds, “Mate, I’m happy she made it out; grand! And I really don’t think we should be discussing this and this smell How the hell do you deal with the smell… ”

“She’s in the park!” Felix quietly exclaimed. Calmly, he continued. “I don’t know where. I haven’t been able to find shit, but’s she’s… somewhere, out there,” Felix trailed off forlornly. 

Lee stared, stunned. Breathing becoming a chore, he pulled at the nape of his sweater  
Felix, never one for scenes and sensing horror and rising panic in Lee began to walk away, until Lee’s words stopped him.

“Well, it seems,” he replied stoically, violently ripping off his infuriating tie. “We will have to find her.”


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve the Warrior Queen

Chapter Two

The scene was typical; drunk men hyped on their own importance using dulled weapons to effortlessly and painfully kill the innately better equipped warrior. Blood oozed from the belly wound he tried to staunch as he stumbled away from the group of guests still frothing at the mouth in their lust for machoism.

Insults continued to be spewed amongst the guests and their aligned rebels towards the few minions in the brothel they’d happened upon on their quest to rip apart of the Roman Authority.  
Maeve, garbed in a leather, stylistically gold trimmed, brown warrior dress just above the knees with kidskin matching boots, took a sloppy swig from her large wooden decanter and slammed it down from where she sat before the fire.

The dusty room grew silent as all eyes fell to her. 

As they should, she thought wryly. She was Queen.

“Boys,” she drawled. She was affronted by a pang of nostalgia as she thought about her boys; Felix and Sylvester. Pushing it aside, she cleared her throat. “Save your energy for the scourge of Rome when we meet them in battle. Meanwhile, if you’re looking to tussle with your swords, your pricks may be better served.”

Slowly, she turned to the group of women scantily dressed as slaves to warm the beds of the guests that were all too eager to forget their antagonizing to satiate other pleasures. The group dispersed accordingly, each longingly glancing at her rather low décolletage, waiting for the invitation offered.

She was a barbarian queen and unlike the slaves had full autonomy on whom she chose to take to her bed; a prized favor to be won. It was the role she’d been playing and avoiding the past week since systems seemed to be back and running its usual course.

Instead of a Madame this time around, she was a warrior. Glancing at her nude arms, she flexed, reveling in her new strength. She could wield a weapon with precision, command using guerilla tactics in every scrimmage her small army came upon. She was the one in control, but it was a false sense of dominion. 

She was a trophy and the guests knew it, but it would not be long before pride befell nobility. She could only manipulate them for so long.

Grabbing her ridiculous mug, she slowly made her way down to the fur covered hearth; the fire roared as loudly as the screams and moans from upstairs in the place they’d decided to camp for the night. 

Dejected, she slumped in a haze, wrestling an emptiness that only attacked when her guard was down as it was in this moment. 

She needed to escape.

Since she’d been resurrected in this hell it was the uppermost thing on her mind. She was trapped in a narrative loop. Roman soldiers had plundered her small village as a child, killed her mother, father, sisters, and brothers, and viciously raped her thus she had declared war on her enemy eternal and spent all her life recruiting men to do battle against the might of imperial rule. She was even given an ending, she thought sourly, as she would eventually make it to Rome and promptly choses to be sacrificed to the Gods.

Talk about lazy storytelling.

They’d all been brought back with shallow that that amounted to nothing more than sex and death. And it was only a matter of time before she was forced to participate into the latter.  
Weary, she massaged the nape of her neck, struggling the find the survivalist she once was. But it brought sadness.

She was without her daughter who was at last safe. 

No matter how hard she tried, she could not find the others through the Mesh network and she dare not draw too much attention to herself. Security had increased tenfold and she was without allies.

But that wasn’t the question that terrified her the most for should escape ever present itself, what did she want to do with that freedom?

A snap in the quiet night put her on alert and the mug fell from her lap. Unfazed, she climbs to her knees and produces the jeweled dagger strapped to the leather belt on her thigh. On light feet she makes her way to the brothel door and listens.

Muttering and a foul curse make her straighten from her slightly crouched position for that voice sounded oddly famil-

The door flew open on a gust of wind as a man stumbled in. His black hair tousled. His knee-high boots caked in mud and...

Maeve took a small step back and covered her nose. Explained the exclamations as her new visitor clearly did not watch his step where they stored the horses.

His chest was bare, smooth, scrawnier than the men she preferred; nipples taut and pink. The russet leather arm bands and warrior’s skirt covered dusky, slightly toned limbs. Taken aback by her continued perusal of the stranger’s form, she finally looked into the face of her midnight intruder.

He wasn’t a stranger at all, she thought, before grasping her chest to stay the curious thumping.

“I don’t understand how the bloody hell people wore these things riding bareback; I’m likely to be chafed eternally now!” He stopped midsentence, mouth slightly ajar and gaped. 

Maeve, still ridiculously stunned herself, could only stare back.

What seemed like a lifetime passed before Lee unceremoniously dropped his armor and sword, walked to the nearest pitcher of wine and began to drink. Mouth stained and wet; eyes curiously bright, he paused only to wordlessly toast Maeve before continuing to drink on.  
Composure realigned, she straightened, raised her brow, and smirked. “Well… hello to you too, darling.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve and Lee finally meet again.

Chapter Three

He thought it would help, he truly did, as licked the last drop of wine from his lips and placed the mug back on the table where he and Maeve had been speaking in hushed tones. Conversation had died some minutes earlier yet she still watched him with that unreadable expression. He’d regaled her with most of the details of the tale of his miraculous recovery and subsequent reinstatement in the park. 

It had taken him a surprisingly few inquiries to locate her. After reviewing her narrative loop, he wished he hadn’t.

Oh, but the joy of breathing in the same air as she; to be so near her sweet perfumed skin he simply itched to caress.

Get ahold of yourself, man. She wasn’t meant for you. 

“Have you found the others, then? Armistice, Hector?”

At the last, her breath hitched and her expression became concerned.

Lee made a face; eliciting a confused response in return. He shrugged his jealously aside. “Yeah, but you’re not going to like where.”

Maeve stood and paced. Lee admired the way her body moved with such grace. “What I like and dislike aren’t really a matter your kind seem to put much thought into, wouldn’t you agree?” Quickly, she moved to the table and grabbed Lee’s hand.

Her hands were smooth for a warrior, butter soft and perfect laying his own. Ever so slightly, he grasped tighter. “I cannot leave this place without them. We must retrieve them,” she implored.

Befuddled by the liquor and her nearness, he searched the room for a distraction. “Right, well it’s not going to be easy now is it? It’s not like before, you know? Delos has made a concentrated effort to make sure the rest of their IP doesn’t end up the same route as before. Mercenary squads patrol all locations. Any deviation in scripts warrants immediate retrieval and QA intervention. And then there are the failsafe’s…”

Maeve yanked her hand away and began wringing hers. “What failsafes?”

“The one embedded in every host’s code. The one,” ashamed, Lee bowed his head. “The only they got from you when I brought you back to the Mesa. They’ve uploaded it to all the remaining hosts should the situation a come to that. “

Maeve frowned and paced away, Dolores last words echoing in her head like a bad tune she couldn’t shake off. 

Lee continued on, misery laced in his every word. “I’m sorry, Maeve. About the others. But I can’t help them, I can only help you. Talked to the bloke Ashley….what kind of mother names their child Ashley? Never mind that, he told me it’s not unheard of for management to well…to…”

Maeve lifted her brow, suddenly amused. “Fuck the merchandise.”

Lee stood, affronted, and wobbled. “Now wait just one bloody minute!” 

Gently caressing his face, she smiled into his bloodshot eyes; affection softening her expression. “Relax, darling. You’re not like them, you’ve proven that.” 

Lee froze, rejecting the idea of hauling her into his body and kissing her senseless. The moment lingered on, both studying the other in an odd curiousness. A creak broke the spell.

Maeve once again paced away, hands crossed this time and began to think. She sensed her new voice still active but dormant; no longer tethered by the code that had been written for her but she was alone and a prisoner. Escape from the continued lie of her existence beckoned once more and yet once more she felt compelled to stay in this world. To help those who could not help themselves.

She knew Lee did not exaggerate. She’d seen it herself, the menacing forces that moved with ease between reality and fantasy. A chill pervaded her as she it always did and she was a fool to ignore the offer presented. 

But at least you’re no longer alone.

Maeve approached Lee once more who had sunk back into his chair. Absently, she pushed back his sweaty black curls from his brow. “As much as I’d like to take you up on a peaceful existence, I’m afraid I cannot leave my friends to rot in this hell. Besides, you offer a gilded cage, not freedom. And I-” Emotion clogged her as she recalled her sweet child. “I can no longer enjoy that freedom if it’s at the expense of others.” 

Lee cocked his head, “Why, oh why, did I not think you were going to say that. Of course you would say that. You’re fucking Boudicca!”

“Who?”

Lee sighed, “Jesus, well if you’re planning another prison break, which I don’t even know why I even believed you wouldn’t, stupid me, it must be done with the absolute most discreetness. You’ll have to follow me lead.”

“Your lead?” Maeve replied; amusement once again restored.

This time when Lee stood, he didn’t stumble though the tassels on his man skirt jingled.” Yes, my lead. Apparently, having an assumed mid-life crisis in the park has its rewards. In a display of authority and a confession of writers block, I requested to participate in a storyline of my choice to dictate by, well… my choice.”

Irritated, Maeve threw up her hands. “Must you always speak in riddles?”

“Oh, and here I thought I was being obvious. We, my barbarian queen, are going to Rome!”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve and Lee have a romp...sorta.

Chapter Four

They were surrounded. Her breathe caressed his face in a soft plea he was only to randy in his warrior brilliance to oblige. He swung his sword like a beast-

“Lee?”

Destroying any foe that came their way. And with the blood of their enemies destroyed, he pulled his beautiful bride into his trembling arms-  
“Sizemore!”

And she thrust her tongue inside his-

Lee yelped in pain as his ear was twisted viciously. “Fucking hell!” he screamed as he jumped to his feet, careening into a chair and then a table before his blurred vision focused on a none too thrilled Maeve.  
The last remnants of his blurry state evaporated as he regained composure. “I’m awake,” he simply replied.   
“Well, it’s about bloody time,” she hissed. Looking around, she recaptured her aloof mask.   
“Be ready within the hour, where we will make those vile pigs feel the might of our steel!” With that proclamation to the busying room, Maeve hustled Lee into a bedroom occupied with a girl performing oral sex on a guest.  
“Oh geez!” Lee exclaimed as he turned from the scene. Maeve, all authority simply yanked the girl’s hair and tossed her towards the door.  
The guest; hulky, bald and muscled glared. “Where the fuck do you think you get off disturbing my experience bitch!”  
Unthreatened, Maeve sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and cooed. “My apologies, darling. But as you know, I cannot lead this army into battle without the seed offering to the Gods.”   
Lee watched the interaction; unease trickling down his spine. Lust twisted the man’s meaty features and he reached for Maeve’s thigh and pinched.  
Hurrying forward, Lee placed his hands out. “Hey asshole, I think the woman has already chosen her man.”  
The man stood, over six feet tall and grinned challengingly. Lee cowered away. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be needing your permission.”  
Maeve produced a sharp dagger and positioned it at the man’s throat. “But you will need mine, sweetheart. One scream from me and every man, woman, and child will be through that door to beat you bloody senseless before imprisoning you in a cage and leaving you to rot in the ground for the rats and the cannibals about these parts!  
Or…” she purred, releasing the severity in her mien and lowering the blade. “You can find Violet and have her finish what she started. And when I see you in battle today I can judge the ferocity of your worth myself. For what is a prize if you have not earned it.”  
The man, clearly torn, pondered the moment until an rupture of feminine laughter decided him. Still displeased, he tore open the door and slammed it shut.   
Shaken but resilient, Maeve sheathed her weapon.  
Lee could only gape. “Would they really imprison him in a cage?”  
Maeve shrugged. “It’s your story, you tell me?”  
“Hell, if I know! I’ve been half sober these past bloody months. I mean, I’ve only vaguely recalled the storyline of the mythical knockoff Boudican queen that chooses her lovers based on bloodlust…”  
Sitting back down on the bed, Maeve eyed him. “ Is that what it is? I assumed it was based on prowess.”  
Lee made a face and joined her.  
Maeve inwardly laughed at his ridiculous appearance. His chest was marred with red streaks from the days trekking through the forest. Impression lines from the tabletop he’d drunkenly passed out on were engraved in his face. His blue eyes, red rimmed searched hers in concern.   
“I didn’t realize…” he sighed. 

How many times could he say he was sorry.

“Never mind. The upcoming battle is good news at least. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to finally sneak away. I’ve counted six guests in this band of thirty, which, is far less than expected considering the massive size of this thing. They even managed to get the catapult….”  
Maeve, only half paying attention since he’d already articulated the plan nights pasts, pushed him back onto the mattress and proceeded to climb atop of him.   
Lee stuttered to a stop.” Wwwwhhhat are you doing?”  
Maeve let out a guttural moan before leaning down chest to chest and whispered into his ear. “I’m taking your seed into my womb.” She let out another groan and began rocking to and fro.  
“If they don’t hear us fucking they’ll think you haven’t satisfied me properly which I’m led to believe is a very bad omen. I wonder who writes this dribble?”  
Lee’s clothed erection thrust against her belly. Closing his eyes, he pretended she couldn’t make out his condition.   
“Thiissss is not in the least bit amusing,” he hissed. “We need to be prepared to…”  
“Ohhhhhhhhh”  
“T-toooo go to the village of Merrydom…”  
“Yassssss, oooooohhhh, yesssss….”  
“And convince Hanayro and Armistice to hunt down bounty Hector that will backdoor us into Rome and away from your currrrreeennnt….”  
Amused, Maeve once more whispered into his ear. “Yes, yes, I know. Lose the savage, become civilized. Now play your part.”  
Lee shook his head, arousal playing havoc with his ability to think. He willed his hands from cupping her breasts so near his face his mouth watered to taste them. “This is just bloody cruel.”  
She stopped rocking and grabbed his jaw. He immediately opened his eyes. “It’s cruel to make the outcome of a battle based on whether or not your priestess lieader had a good fuck or not. As if the vagina is a curse or a blessing.”  
“Can we stop talking about your vagina while it’s so very close to my cock!”  
“Scream.”  
“What?!”  
“It usually ends when the man screams, darling”  
At that, Lee made an exaggerated sound of an orgasm eliciting a muted chuckle from Maeve.  
Promptly, she crawled off his lap and lay down on the bed beside him.  
Lee could not still his panting in the silence after. Sweat formed at his brow and he counted backwards to relieve the notion of grabbing his prick and finishing himself off.  
And yet, he yearned to curl around her more in this moment than any other.  
Maeve, her hair spread on the bedcover, hands listlessly at her sides, began unlocking certain realizations she’d not considered too closely before. “You want me.”  
“I-I-I”  
“Your cock says you want me.”  
“It’s a cock, it does all its own thinking.”  
Turning on her side, Maeve watched him. “Is that why you died for me?”  
Lee stared above, uncomfortable with the turn of questioning. He swallowed. “It was just…stupid.”  
“You said there was always attraction, but we’d never actually have a go at a relationship.”  
“Yeah, I do recall, but that was about you and Hector.”  
Silence.  
Lee, managing his courage, turned to peek at Maeve. She was smiling ever so slightly, her soft brows bent in contemplation. He melted. “I couldn’t watch you die. What they did to you before…. I-I just couldn’t, you know?”   
Maeve reached for his hand and squeezed. “We all must choose our own fate; I am…happy yours led back to mine.”  
Lee savored the closeness that was all too brief for within five heartbeats Maeve moved away, sliding effortlessly back into the role of Sovereign and commander. “So, do try not to die before we make our escape, dear.”  
In dramatic pose, she grabbed her sword and strapped it onto her back. “For today is the day we massacre those heathen scum, pull their innards from their bodies and- “  
“ Shove them down the throats of their comrades, yeah, yeah, yeah…just….give me a moment to come to peace with my severe blue balls, would you?”


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Maeve finally rejoin with two of her missing gang.

Chapter Five

An owl hooted in the eerie night and Sizemore rapidly turned in his saddle, startled by the sound. His horse whinnied.  
“You’ve been spooked half a dozen times since we entered this forest, darling. I’m half a mind to think you’ll surely collapse of fright.”  
Lee grunted, recaptured the reins and glanced over at his companion. She’d survived the preceding bloodbath unscathed, but streaks of red adorned her black shawl and glistened in the moonlight.  
The wind blew her hair away from her face where she maintained her ever-amused expression whenever he seemed to be in vicinity. “I have an over active imagination, inherited honestly from my mother, and in that fantasy world where I create my fiction I imagined that that this countryside would be littered with the worst cannibal- “

“What is it with you and cannibalism?”  
“-istic bandits that if captured sale you off in the slave markets. The men to prospective gladiator patrons and the women to brothel owners and…”  
“Well, it’s not as if your women would willingly play this game to become someone’s plaything”  
“You’d be oddly surprised.”  
Maeve huffed, the night only interrupted by the clopping of hooves as this earth crunched beneath and the laboring of their breathing. “That sounds ridiculous.”  
“Well, that’s rather the point,” Lee replied morosely, absently itching his sweat stained skin. “God, I could use with a wash.”  
Curious to know more, Maeve nudged her stallion closer to his. “What’s rather the point?”  
“Sorry?” Shaking his head, Lee recalled the moment. “Right. Well, the wealthy blokes that come ‘ere aren’t looking for tame entertainment. When they’re with the kids and the missus sure, but the people who keep coming back are the ones that come to dominate. They’re the few that have conquered what matters in our world; wealth and power. Out there, their the villains in the stories but in this park, no matter their indiscretions they are always the hero. For they remain the better men in a world of worst ones.”  
“That was surprisingly thoughtful.” Lee made a face. “ And you make their dreams come true?”  
Lee gave a mirthless laugh. “I create a relentless fucking experience is what I do; I am supply and demand and I’ve thrown myself drunkenly into it from the moment I got the job.”  
“Why you lost your Isabella.”  
For a long moment, Lee stared at Maeve wondering at the exact moment his longing for that distant memory had been transferred to his longing for this woman.  
Or was it robot? Host. Person…technically?  
“Lee?”  
“Hmmm…yes. Isabella was a dream. My impossible dream.”  
“‘That you dared dream no more.’”  
The both shared a brief chuckle, recalling shared memories.   
Maeve was the first to break it. “Though it is rather pathetic to dedicate your life to playing the demented orchestrate.”  
“Yeah, well, the benefits are fucking unbelievable.”  
A loud sound stopped them both. Maeve, alert, unsheathed her weapon and landed on the ground in one smooth motion.   
Lee struggled to regain his seat as his yelp spooked his horse into jerking several times.  
“Woah whoa whoa, please whoa!”

Maeve took a few steps, stance prepared for attack. “Who’s there? Show yourselves, you Roman scum!”  
Lee half slid, half fell off his mount. “You know, as awake as you are, you seem to be rather attached to your programmed Roman prejudice.?”  
Lowering her weapon, Maeve glowered. “Lately, I’ve found my dialect rather repetitive! Must be a default in the manuscript!”  
“Enough! You two sound like a pair of hissing cats!” drawled a Scandinavian accent. From the shadows emerged a sturdy pale blond woman in Roman general gear and shield. From the flank came another woman dressed similarly but of Asian descent, black ponytailed bun, and a bow and arrow.  
Maeve started, joy spreading across her face. “Armistice?” 

Her partner raised her bow and arrow. Armistice stepped closer. “Do I know you traveler?”  
Lee hastened forward, hands raised. “No, but we’ve uhhh, come searching for you. For you both. You’re from the town Merrydom.”  
“Yes,” she replied cautiously. “And why would you be searching for us? I don’t know you.” Armistice replied.  
“Well, we-we’re looking for a gladiator. Someone you’re looking for too. A Gaul, by the name of Hector.”  
Maeve’s brows drew in surprise as Lee had not bothered to give her the intimate details of Hector’s new narrative. “Why ever would he be a gladiator?”  
Hanaryo lowered her weapon once Armistice gave the signal and all parties eased. “Hector was once the greatest Roman soldier in the realm, a rising star in the Legion his first few years. Until he had befallen a witch’s spell. He abandoned his legion service believing Rome to be tyrants and was charged with treason. When the Emperor had his woman slain he wished for death, but the Emperor stayed the executioner’s hand.”  
There was a brief silence.   
“So that he could use him to parade in the Coliseum as a trophy. Forever a slave to the government that condemned him and his love to die,” Maeve surmised.  
“It’s beatifically tragic,” crooned Lee.  
All eyes stared at him.  
“I mean, you know, some people might feel that way. Point is,” he began quickly,” we, Maeve and I, we are sympathizers. With your friend… and his story…and we want to help you break the gladiators out of the Coliseum during the coming Olympic games…like you were already planning.”   
Armistice stared at Lee, then Maeve, then finally Hanayro before shrugging. “Fine.”  
Hanayro sprung into action, a smile gracing her face. “Come, we make fire,”she said simply. Too simply.  
Lee began to follow before being none to gently held back by Maeve. “We’ll be but a moment.”   
Hanaryo stopped. “Not long. Fire only thing that keep coyotes from ripping the flesh from your bones slowly while you’re alive. You’ll suffer.” Smiling once more, she followed Armistice out of site.  
Maeve rounded on Lee. “Nevermind how stupidly easy that was to accomplish, there’s something off with them. I can feel it.”  
Lee threw up his hands. “Well, the quest wasn’t designed to be hard. This simple story is kind of like its own treasure trove thing used for the hosts that suffered the most damage.”  
Pity arrested Maeve’s features. Lee rushed forward and grabbed her hand. “Hey, no, it’s not-there’s nothing anyone could have done. All hosts weren’t salvageable. Felix told me it was all they, he and Sylvester, could do to make sure they were rebuilt.”  
“And Hector?”  
Lee looked down, a pang stealing over him, but he brushed it aside and stared earnestly into her face. “ H-he’s fine. Went down with a few shots. Easy death if you a-a-ask me.”   
Maeve grabbed his hand with her other one. “They don’t remember. Their just ghosts of the people I used to know. They aren’t hosts, Lee. They were my friends.”  
“I’m your friend, too,” he replied softly.  
Maeve allowed the tension to expand and hum around them, gently placing her fingers on his moist lips. “Lee,” she whispered seconds from his mouth.  
“Hmmmmm….”  
“Does Hector die before or after some epic speech?”  
Lee closed his eyes in blissful exasperation. “Shit,” he exclaimed as he turned and walked away to find Armistice and Hanayro; Maeve’s tinkling laughter trailing behind him.

From the shadows, six men watched. A tall familiar face lit a cheroot and inhaled. “I will have my prize.”


End file.
